


Happy Birthday Lieutenant Edward Little

by fosfomifira



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (sort of), Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Thomas Jopson is Topson, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fosfomifira/pseuds/fosfomifira
Summary: Beechey Island, December 1845. Lieutenant Edward Little has a particular birthday present to ask of his two boyfriends.
Relationships: Thomas Jopson/Edward Little/Solomon Tozer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22
Collections: The Terror Bingo, The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	Happy Birthday Lieutenant Edward Little

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Terror bingo box "Beechey Island".

The orlop has never looked so clean or smelled so —well, not good, but not awful. Trust Jopson to be able to pull it off. Solomon has never been all that particular about where fucks, but it doesn't mean he can't appreciate nice things. He’s not a brute, despite what some may think. He’s a very adaptable man, that’s all.

There’s some nice bedding hiding behind some boxes and crates, a lamp keeping away the dark, even a brazier to keep everyone warm. Who knows what Jopson used for a mattress, but it looks soft enough to sleep on. Sure looks a lot comfier than the hammock that’s been Sol’s since Greenhite. Might as well wait here, Solomon tells himself as he lays down. He’s just appreciating Jopson’s work, after all. 

It’s easy enough to let his thoughts wonder when he’s like this, all stretched out, a big sigh escaping his lips. No one will be looking for him for hours, not like they’d need him for shit. Stuck for their first Arctic winter they were, Beechey Island their shelter in this frozen sea. Not even polar bears are paying them any attention. There’s nought but darkness and cold. There’s no need for a marine sergeant on deck or anywhere else that’s not Lieutenant Little’s side.

Solomon closes his eyes, letting his right hand rub over his cock. It’s a light touch, light enough he barely feels it, but it’s the thought that counts. It’s nice to know everything’s still there and still in working order. After all, it’s because of lieutenant Little he’s here rather than playing cards with his lads. Dark hair, dark eyed, pretty lieutenant Little that’s got himself a piece of Solomon’s heart. He’s probably after Solomon’s cock and nothing more, but that’s the way of the world. Sometimes you’re only after a good time, easy enough, and you end up getting caught like a silly fish in a net. He should have known better, but that’s the way of the world. Lieutenant Little is easy on the eyes, a damn good fuck and a weakness of Solomon’s. He can’t say no to him and that’s going to get him in trouble any day now.

Solomon tried not to think much about the men aboard. He had a job to do and if his eye wandered no good would come out of it. A man had needs and a man like him had particular needs, but it’d do him no favours to let his prick carry him astray, go looking for company where there’s none to be had.

Still, there was only so much distraction to be had in the Arctic and without him having a say so Solomon found himself paying attention to lieutenant Little. Not since his days as a private had Solomon paid this much attention to an officer hoping to get in their breeches. He looked and didn’t quite like what he saw: Mr Jopson, the captain’s steward, had Little eating from the palm of his hand, as lovestruck as any puppy Solomon had seen.

Life aboard could be plenty unusual and a man forming an understanding with another was not that peculiar. An officer reaching out to a steward for this sort of thing is not all that ood. Makes sense, when Solomon thinks about it. Stewards get you on and out of your clothes, wash your underthings and whatnot. They spend all their time in officer country, always warm and well fed.

Jopson must have known before lieutenant Little himself what Little wanted from him. Can’t really fault Little’s taste. Jopson was a good looking bastard, what with those big doll eyes and his neat face. He was much too prim and proper for Solomon -he likes to go where he knows he’s wanted.

It was a cold night, a frozen sky with sparkling stars, pretty as a print, just the thing to clear Solomon’s mind from all this nonsense. He’s got no business wondering what Little and Jopson get up to when they’re alone, if they use Little’s cabin or find themselves a quiet spot in the orlop. So what if Solomon was freezing his stones and makes himself warm thinking of Little’s eyelashes fluttering when Jopson sucks him off. He looked like a man who knows what he’s doing when he’s got a man yard’s in his mouth, Jopson did. Nothing too obvious about it, not like Gibson, but clear all the same for anyone who knows where to look. Solomon learnt long ago to look for those signs and to send them out when he’s in the mood. He’s been flying his flag, but Little seems to have missed the signal book. Just his luck, Solomon thinks. Just his luck to have the prettiest lieutenant on board and him too dull or uninterested to read the signs.

Solomon knew better than to fret over Little and Jopson. He’s a grown man, not a schoolgirl who’s never been more than three miles from her home. He missed having his cock sucked, that’s all. There was no other reason for him to fall asleep every night having a nice wank, thinking about Little and Jopson. Odds are they don’t even fuck. He couldn’t see neat, tidy Mr Jopson spreading his legs and opening his hole for Little’s cock. Too much of a mess. He wouldn’t even say a word, just make a face like he’s smelt cheese gone bad. 

Solomon would let the lieutenant bugger him. He felt rather certain Little has a decent sized tool, based on absolutely nothing but years of looking at men and hoping for the best. He probably doesn’t know how to use it, couldn’t make Solomon spend without help, but it makes no difference. Sometimes it’s nice to feel something up your arse, simple as that. He’d like to teach Little all about that, Solomon would. It wouldn’t take much, some kissing, some sucking, some oil for Little’s virgin arse and he’d be begging for Solomon’s prick, easy as that. Solomon would make it good for the two of them, use every trick he’s learnt to have Little squirming around Sol’s cock, rocking back and forth on it until Solomon thrust hard went deep into Little’s arse, balls deep, nice and tight, just the moment to kiss Little’s neck, all that soft beard and the pale vulnerable skin, leaving all kind of marks for the steward to see. 

November rolled in, not even proper winter yet, but cold enough for your teeth to ache. Jopson and Little were still doing their thing, as quiet as a grave. If anyone else had noticed they’re not telling. No one was bored enough to gossip just yet, not even to make up stories about the first lieutenant. Give it time, Solomon told himself. He does what he can, but discipline is a shambles aboard HMS Terror. He probably shouldn’t waste his time looking at lieutenant Little, but at least the man is not likely to talk his ear off -as would happen if he were to make the mistake of talking to lieutenant Hodgson-, or make him feel like the worst kind of sinner and him not even opening his mouth -lieutenant Irving, who’s been looking at him in a rather peculiar way every time he handles his telescope-. 

His watch was over and Solomon needed to present his report to the captain. A year into the expedition and he doesn’t have many flattering things to say about Crozier. He’s fairly certain the opposite is true, not that he cares. The ice will melt, they will find the Northwest Passage, sail to the Sandwich Islands and then back home. That will be that.

It had been a long, miserable day and the sooner he could give his report the sooner he could lay down in his hammock and forget about everything. Solomon isn’t even in the mood for a wank. A little warmth and some food in his stomach is all he asked from life these days. He’s learnt his lesson by now. Might as well go directly to Little’s cabin and be done with it.

There was light shining through the sliding door in front of him. Voices were clearly audible. Solomon was not in the mood for this sort of thing tonight. He could play blind, deaf or dumb like the best of them, but a man’s limits should not be tested thus. 

Solomon knocked on the door just the one time before it slid open. Jopson was there, his hair so impossibly neat at this time of the day you’d think he just combed it. Little was sitting in his bunk, his pale face unusually flushed, his eyes bright. Time to play blind it was. 

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, sir, but I need to present my report before I can retire for the day.”

Little startled, as if he’d lost track of time. Jopson must be better at it than Solomon thought. 

“Ah.., yes, of course,” Little stuttered.

“What lieutenant Little means to say is that surely nothing has happened since you last presented your report. Is that not, sergeant Tozer?”

The nerve of Jopson made Solomon stand taller, his back as straight as if he were on parade. He’ll not take orders from a civilian, least of all a bloody steward. “I’ll present my report now if you agree, lieutenant Little.” 

“Edward, I think it’s time you –”

“Didn’t ask for your opinion, now did I, Mr Jopson.” Sol didn’t mind if he sounded like an arsehole. Jopson could go fuck himself for all he cares.

Little looked as if he was about to have an apoplexy. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but not a single word came out. Bloody officers will be the death of them all.

“What I meant to say, sergeant Tozer,” Jopson said, all of him as cool as the air outside, “is that Lieutenant Little and myself have a proposition to make.”

“Is that so, lieutenant Little?” The man still looked rather ruffled. 

“I wouldn’t want you to feel in any way obligated or, er, compelled to agree to what we’re about to propose. If anything, we trust we have your confidence in this matter.”

There’s that bloody _we_ again. Him and Jopson, Jopson and him, all but admitting to violating the articles. Solomon could go open his mouth to Crozier, but what would be the use of that? It’d be petty, beneath him as a marine sergeant and as a man. 

“Nothing to concern yourself with, sir.”

“Come on, Edward,” Jopson said, his left hand on Little’s shoulder, smiling down at him. Little smiled back at him, all shy like. 

“What I mean, sergeant,” Little said, “is that I’d like to share intimacies with you.”

That was then. The most peculiar conversation Sol had ever been a part of and certainly one of the most awkward ones. The reward had been well worth it. Lieutenant Little did want him, the insatiable little minx. Jopson had been surprisingly encouraging about the entire arrangement. If Sol had to bet, he’d put money that this was Jopson’s idea. Not Little wanting him, that is true enough, but actually asking him. Little would never dare. No skin off his back as far as Solomon is concerned. He’s got his hands on Little and Christ, how sweet the man tastes. He’d dreamt of kissing the man, taking him into his arms and now it’s all Solomon’s until the next bell.

As it turned out the reason behind their arrangement is not just that Edward is an insatiable little minx (though he very much is in Solomon’s opinion). Jopson is a very busy man and can’t always make himself available to Little. There’s also the small matter that Edward does care for him, genuinely and as openly as he can. And if Edward’s heart also happened to have room for that peculiar Jopson then there’s nothing to be done about it. Solomon is a generous man. He’s getting what he never thought he’d have, a handsome man in his arms whenever he can slip into his cabin. Even better, he and Jopson rarely cross paths, let alone have words. If he sees marks on Edward’s skin Solomon won’t say a word. He’ll just kiss Edward harder, fuck him harder until he can’t remember his own name, let alone Jopson’s. 

Really, he had no reason to complain whatsoever.

Solomon should have seen it coming. Food was almost decent, Heather wasn’t snoring as loudly as usual. It didn’t even feel as cold. Why, even lieutenant Hodgson’s stories seemed entertaining enough. The world wasn’t a miserable place for once and then Jopson came to him, all straight-backed and his hair perfectly combed. If he was cold he didn’t let it show.

“Lieutenant Little would like to see you in his cabin. Eight bells,” he said, not even having the decency of waiting for an answer. 

Jopson was already in Little’s cabin when Solomon’s watch was over. 

“Solomon, thank you so much for coming,” Edward said. There was a peculiar twinkle in his eyes, like that of an indulged child about to ask for more. “I know I’ve already asked so much of you and Thomas already and you’ve both been so remarkably selfless when it comes to my requests. I can’t thank you enough, truly.

“But I have one more favour to ask. Jopson already knows that my birthday is next Sunday. What he doesn’t know is that what I’d like the two of you to do for me. Together. As a present.”

*

No one else has arrived for their little _rendez-vous_ yet. Solomon is tempted to have a quiet wank if Jopson doesn’t show up. It’d be nice to take his time, make it feel good rather than just pull at his cock under the blankets. 

Just why Sol couldn’t say no to Edward will remain as big a mystery as the bloody ocean. Jopson seemed equally mystified by his inability to deny him anything when it actually matters. Solomon has done his share of unusual things, but to bed his sweetheart’s other lover while said sweetheart watches is new to him. From the look on Jopson’s face it’s going to be quite the novel experience. Might as well warm himself up, make sure his stand is up for it, Solomon thinks as he unbuttons his trousers. 

“Please, don’t stop on our account.”

Solomon sits up, half hard stand peeking out from his undone clothes. If the smirk on Jopson’s face is any indication Solomon is sure he looks like an idiot. Neddie, at least, looks appreciative, all blushed cheeks already.

“Sit over there, Edward,” Jopson says, pointing to a crate with a few blankets folded on top of it. “You won’t miss a thing. Just remember not to touch yourself until we say the word.”

Solomon stares. He is in full display for Edward, the lamp over his head casting no shadows. 

“Shall we proceed?” Jopson doesn’t wait for his answer. He simply begins to undress himself, his fingers quick on his buttons, one layer of clothing being removed after the other. 

Solomon removes his boots, then stands up. He takes his time taking off his coat, making sure Edward gets to admire the breath of his shoulders. By the time he looks at Jopson again the man is down to his shirtsleeves and nothing else. 

“Have you changed your mind about kissing, sergeant Tozer?”

Solomon answers with his mouth and his hands. Jopson’s hair is fine, slippery through Sol’s fingers; his waist is trim under his shirt, their bodies now close enough to feel each other’s heat. There is nothing tentative about their first kiss. Solomon simply wants to keep the man quiet and this is as good a way as any. It doesn't hurt he’ always enjoyed kissing and Jopson has a soft looking mouth. 

Jopson’s mouth is soft, but his teeth are sharp. He kisses back hard, hard enough for Solomon to stumble. The man knows what he’s doing, that much is certain. He pulls back, pushing Solomon to sit on the bedding, straddling his lap almost at once. 

“Perhaps it’s time for a haircut, sergeant Tozer,” Jopson says before resuming their kiss, not even bothering to wait for Sol’s reply. Solomon doesn’t mind. The heat of Jopson’s body is a delight, making his own blood run hot. The man’s arse is a nice handful. He’s all the way hard now, ready to give Mr Jopson the buggering of a lifetime. Solomon rolls over, enjoying as he always does the feeling of his own strength. If Jopson has any opinions in the matter he does not say. Instead he simply removes his shirt, spreads his legs and raises an eyebrow. 

“Go ahead, sergeant.”

Solomon is vaguely aware he’s something of a vain man, as proud of his good looks in uniform as of his ability to perform out of it.He’s never left a partner unsatisfied, but today looks like he’ll fail himself. Jopson, that bastard, he’s not even sweating and Solomon feels like a pig, drops falling from his forehead down onto Jopson’s immaculate stomach. The only sounds in the room are of Sol’s own grunting, flesh slapping against flesh and dear Ned’s heavy breathing. Jopson is so bloody quiet you’d think Solomon is buggering a doll, if he didn’t feel so hot and tight inside. 

If only Jopson hadn’t arrived at their little _rendez-vous_ , as he called it, already stretched up and oiled up Solomon might have had a chance to get a better reading on the man. It’s a special kind of pleasure to get your fingers up a man’s arse and find his good spot, watch the expression on his face change from doubt or dislike to utter bliss. Solomon knows how to use his big fingers, make the most of his size and unexpected dexterity, have them all but begging for Sol’s cock. Jopson didn’t give him the chance to play that card.

Thank fuck Jopson is hard. It’s a nice enough yard, plenty pretty to look at. Solomon is sure it tastes even better, but he didn’t get a chance to use his mouth. It bounces against the hair on the man's stomach. Jopson looks faintly bored by the proceedings, as it’s a procedure to be endured and nothing more. He’s still staring back at Solomon, that bloody eyebrow of his raised, judging him. 

“I know you’re enjoying this, you prim bastard,” Solomon mutters under his breath. Jopson has perfect control of his face, but his body speaks a language of its own. The man’s arse is tight, clenching at Solomon’s prick as if it couldn’t get enough. The stretch alone should be plenty to make any man groan and Solomon knows how to use it to it’s full advantage. Little shallow thrusts at first, no more than his rocking to make sure there’s room for all of him up this pretty arse. No need to race himself to spend when it feels so good to go steady and hard, making sure the air gets fucked out of Jopson’s lungs every time Sol goes balls deep.

There was a faint sheen of sweat on Jopson’s temples, his neat hair a mess the harder Solomon thrusts. His cheeks are flushed a delicate pink; he’s now biting his lips to keep quiet, but all of the sudden a faint whimper escapes his mouth. 

“There it is, ain’t it, Mr Jopson? The spot up every man’s arse that makes buggery feel right.” Solomon knows he must look smug. He’s earned it. He keeps aiming his cock at the precise angle. He’s relentless with it, going harder and harder until Jopson’s neat yard starts drooling for him, Jopson’s face properly flushed now, a lovely sheen of lobster red. 

He’s making all manner of noises, Mr Jopson is. All manner of choked gasps and groans and moans and pleas that are driving Solomon wild. They’re both sweating now, their fucking loud and indecent, just like Sol likes it. A small whimper distracts him: it’s Neddie sitting on his hands as not to touch his cockstand. “I’ll give it to you good and proper, Ned. Don’t you worry about it.”

Jopson holds his legs up and over Sol’s shoulders. His hands which had been casually resting on the bedding are now holding his own thighs, opening himself up for Solomon, taking him deeper than before. 

“Oh Christ.” Solomon groans. It feels so good. He’s fucking Jopson, Ned is watching and he’s about to spill if he’s not careful.

“Keep up, sergeant Tozer,” Jopson orders. 

They’re staring into each other’s eyes, like an absurd version of that childish game. Sol never liked blinking first. He sure won’t spend first, no matter how good it feels to fuck Tom Jopson’s arse. The bastard clenches hard around his prick, pulling every trick in the book to make him come, but Solomon just fucks him harder and deeper and faster.

In the end they spend at the same time. Solomon tries not to collapse on Jopson, but it’s a losing battle. The man can take care of himself, after all. Indeed, he pushes him off and away almost at once.

“Come here, Edward,” Jopson says, arms stretched out to welcome their sweetheart between them. Sol can’t speak just yet, shivers of pleasure still racing through his body. What he can do is pull at Ned’s clothes until his prick is out, all hard, wet and desperate. It looks so good he’s got to suck it, stuff his mouth with it until he chokes. Jopson’s kissing Ned, swallowing all of his lovely whimpers, his hands all over Ned’s chest.

Edward fucks Sol’s face, all desperate about it and all the better for it. Jopson whispers encouragement, as if Ned needs it. 

“Doesn’t his mouth feel good, Edward? Don’t you like feeling sergeant Tozer take your entire cock down his throat? He looks like he loves sucking your prick, like he can’t get enough of it.” 

Bloody Jopson saying such things when Solomon can’t talk back shouldn’t come as a surprise. It should make Sol angry, but instead he starts to pull at his own softening cock. Jopson stares at him, his eyes fever bright. 

“Give him your spend, Edward. He’s so hungry for it. Look at him! He can’t even keep his hands off.”

Edward moans as he comes, a quiet, desperate moan that seems to go on forever. Solomon pulls away, dropping a small kiss on the tip of Ned’s cock. He raises on shaky knees to lay next to Edward. Jopson leans over, a soft expression on his face. They kiss, sharing Ned’s taste with each other and their lieutenant Little.

Jopson recovers first. He cleans and dresses himself up as neatly and quickly as any professional. Edward waits for his turn to be dressed, his hair carefully combed. 

Solomon watches Mr Jopson the steward at work. It’s really something else, those pale fingers moving fast and light over Ned’s body, buttoning him up, turning him into lieutenant Little before his eyes. 

“I’ll see you later,” Jopson says. 

“Good night, Neddie,” Solomon says, dropping a sweet kiss on Edward’s sweet mouth before he leaves.

“Need a hand with all of this?” Sol is ready enough to leave, but it wouldn’t do to leave Jopson all alone to tidy things up.

Jopson looks pleasantly surprised as he shakes his head. “There’s no need. 

“Good night, Solomon.”

“Night, Tom.” 

Solomon stumbles his way back to his hammock. The lads won’t say a word. They know he’s had a rough day. 

Until next time, Jopson said before kissing him goodnight. Next time can’t come soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Also written for Rare Pair Week 2021: Stolen Moments.
> 
> I'm on [ tumblr ](https://selfconsciousfangirl.tumblr.com/)and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/pilotaparda)


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